


Cold Spell

by Rose_of_Pollux



Series: Coping Blurbs [7]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Can be read as gen or slash, Gen, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 21:16:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8549422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: A mission in the middle of a winter blizzard has Napoleon cold and grumpy.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ksturf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ksturf/gifts).



Napoleon scowled as the winter wind howled outside the thing windows of the cheap motel room that he and Illya had sought refuge for the night. In the dim streetlamp, snow could be seen whipping around in the wind. Napoleon crinkled his nose at the scene, and tried to burrow under the thin blanket that had come with the room.

“Did I just see you sneer at the weather?” Illya asked, amused.

Napoleon grunted in reply and began to mutter something under his breath that consisted of “Waverly,” “cheap,” “cutbacks,” and “worst motel in existence.”

“Don’t you think you’re making a mountain out of a molehill, Napoleon?” Illya asked, as he got into the bed beside his shivering partner.

“I can’t feel my hands or my feet,” Napoleon snarled. “And they don’t even have an extra blanket.”

“We are fortunate that we got this room at all,” Illya reminded him. “Because of the blizzard, they were practically filled up.”

“I’ll remember that when I have to have my digits amputated from frostbite.”

“It’s not as bad as all that…” Illya scoffed. “Perhaps your body temperature might drop slightly, but not at a level to concern yourself with.”

“Oh, and you’re the expert?” Napoleon asked, sardonically.

“Remember my nationality and ask me that again.”

Napoleon rolled his eyes.

“OK, you’re the expert,” he admitted. “But I can still complain.”

“Oh fine,” Illya said, now his turn to roll his eyes. He wrapped his arms around Napoleon and pulled the American close to him so that they could share their body heat.

“…Oh, you’re very warm,” Napoleon said, surprised. “It’s nice…”

“Will it stop you from complaining all night?”

“Maybe…. I guess a lullaby is out of the question?” he joked.

“Ha, ha. Get some rest. Having to track down those THRUSH agents in the snow tomorrow is not going to be an easy time.”

“Right,” Napoleon yawned. He shut his eyes, but then spoke again. “Illya? Have I told you how much I–?”

“I know,” Illya said. Though he couldn’t see the Russian’s face in the dark, Napoleon knew he was smiling.

Napoleon smiled back.

“Yeah. I know, too.”

And he soon drifted off to sleep, no longer cold.


End file.
